


This time

by StAnni



Category: The OA (TV)
Genre: F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-04
Updated: 2019-06-04
Packaged: 2020-04-07 18:16:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19090462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StAnni/pseuds/StAnni
Summary: It always happens so fast.  And maybe that is why it never lasts.  Maybe they need to slow it down – the one who has control, the one with the most memories, need to breathe through, anchor them.  But it just never happens – the need to touch, to taste, to remember everything is too overwhelming.





	This time

This time she is in a club. She looks like a ghost in the pulsating blue lights, her hair loose and silvery down her back, a short silk dress loose and airy on her frame. She is wearing heels – black and simple and when he goes to stand next to her, before she notices him, he smiles at the slight height difference between them now.   
“May I offer to buy you a drink?” He tries and when she looks at him, eyes crystal and unrecognizing, he thinks, for a moment, that she did no hear him.  
“Vodka tonic.” She says and he nods, pretending he didn’t know exactly what she would ask for.  
She gives him a sidelong look, quickly, and he can see the wonder growing there. It’s beautiful.  
He hands her the drink and she blinks at him as she takes it. “I feel like we’ve met before.” She offers and her smile, the same smile – true and beguiling. He feels his heart constrict, that rush of blood, of hope – maybe this time they’ll get it right. “You have.” He says simply and there is a small shake of her head. “I don’t know why I’m thinking London.”   
London was a few times ago. Not one he would like to think about for too long. “Seattle.” He corrects her to the last place, the last time where she, in fact, found him.  
She smiles again blinking and then gives a short laugh, soft and clear. “Like it’s on the tip of my tongue, you know…”

It always happens so fast. And maybe that is why it never lasts. Maybe they need to slow it down – the one who has control, the one with the most memories, need to breathe through, anchor them. But it just never happens – the need to touch, to taste, to remember everything is too overwhelming.

He takes her to his place, a hotel room he’s been renting by the month looking for her. It’s not fancy but it’s nice and she, still piecing it together, smiles at the bad hotel art, running her finger along the frame. “It’s weird how…you can feel like you’ve known someone forever.” She says, glancing back at him as he locks the door. The blue of her eyes, the texture of her hair, her skin, her smile – it takes over.

She slips her dress off over hear head, in the middle of the room, and she hasn’t quite fully remembered him yet. It’s not ideal. But it’s what they have and he’d take any time with her in any manner or form.   
She looks at him, standing naked in front of him, like she did in the cage – on the other side of the glass, like she did in London, in Dubai, in Seattle, in almost every place they’ve been before. He knows what she prefers so he pulls his shirt over his head, moves towards her as he unbuckles his belt, stopping so close that he can feel her breath on his lips. He knows that she likes the sound of it, the metal click – the soft rip of a zipper sliding down. He also knows that she likes to be told, just a bit, just at first. “Touch me.” He says, keeping her gaze and she reaches a slender arm between them, her hands confident and silky soft, a firm stroke towards his balls, which she cups.   
She kisses him, and she is usually first, soft and hungry – opening her mouth to his parted lips and he deepens it immediately, gripping the back of her neck and sliding his tongue inside. It’s on the tip of her tongue, he thinks, and smiles into the kiss.

“I don’t usually fuck strangers.” She says, her breath sweet and warm and he gives a small shake of his head, already so lost in her. “I’m not a stranger, OA.”

Sometimes, rarely but sometimes, that works. It doesn’t this time, but it doesn’t stop her from sinking to her knees in front of him and taking him into her mouth, reverent and warm, making his knees almost buckle as he gently steadies himself with a hand on her shoulder. “You’ll end me like that.” He manages out as she sucks him in deep – her tongue so hot and pressing against the underside of his cock.

He is not able to take much, being too aroused already, and urges her up – the night air cool on his wet, heavy cock as he kisses her – tasting his precum. “Kneel for me.” He says to her and her breath catches which make his cock twitch. The best thing about being the one with the memories, is knowing exactly what to do.  
She kneels on the bed, her legs smooth and sleekly parted, wide, like he likes it – and maybe she is starting to remember. She’s slick as he traces her folds with his finger and she bites her arm. “I love your cunt, OA.” He says, and his voice is hoarse, heady. She smiles at him over her shoulder but she doesn’t breathily beg for his thick cock, his cum – so it’s not fully her yet. 

He pumps himself slowly as he slides two fingers slowly into her – feeling her stretch around him. She’s tight, very tight – she hasn’t slept with anyone in a while – and she breathes, irresistibly, at the slow burn. “So you say you know me, “ she whispers, “Tell me what I’d like.”  
He smiles. His OA is verbal, expressive, intoxicating – and she is slowly starting to come through. He knows this game, so he plays along.  
“You’d like me to make you wait, beg maybe. You like to bend over, pull your panties down, lift your skirt and wait ” He can feel her slowly releasing, allowing his fingers further in. He knows that he would have to at least open her up with three, for there to still be a burn just on the right side of pain.  
“You like to spread your legs, you like me to watch you – and you like watching me. You like to watch me take my cock out for you – show you what you do to me. You like to make me cum just by looking at you” She moans, pushing back against his fingers in a shuddering movement and he grips his cock, to still himself.  
“You like to roll back against me when the sunrise wakes you up – press your ass against my morning wood…you grip the sheets as I hold you down, part your cheeks, slide a finger out of your slick little cunt, using your own wetness to prepare you, and I tell you to moan into the pillow – and you know that it gets me hard as fuck, throbbing. You like it when I press in slowly, stay deep, and fuck you slow before come inside you as the sun traces up your skin.”  
To that her head bows and her voice is low, almost pleading. “Homer, please.” 

And it’s her, she looks back at him as he lines himself up, the soft warm mouth of her cunt opening for him as he looks into her eyes, as she moans, falling on her elbows and pressing back against him so that he slides deep and full into that heat.

“Fuck” She breathes, steadying and pushing back against his second, hard thrust. “Homer, please, more.” She rises up against him, his cock firmly sheathed inside of her and gripping her close he starts a punishing rhythm, chasing her to an orgasm that will be too soon coming.

When she does, after a rigorous session of sweat and moans fall forward, her cunt wet and glistening around his cock, pumping his seed deep into her for the second time in an hour, he braces over her, holding himself up by his arms – the strain burning in his muscles and then collapses in a boneless heap next to her.

“Homer. Homer” She breathes, rolling her face to his. “I love you, I love…”

And she’s gone.


End file.
